


Pushing Buttons

by helsinkibaby



Category: Stargate SG1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron refuses to let Sam push a button. Post Arthur's Mantle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Buttons

**Author's Note:**

> For meeshyickle’s prompt, used as a first line.

“Don’t touch that!”

Sam jumps and turns towards the door to look at him, an expression on her face that flits between curiosity and irritation. She drops her hand though, something for which Cameron is truly grateful, and were it not for the fact that he knows she could probably kill him with that same one hand, added to the realisation that her expression is swinging ever closer to pissed off, he’d feel even better still.

“Cameron, what the hell…?” is all she gets out before he takes a (cautious) step into the lab, pointing gingerly towards the alien contraption on the counter.

“The last time I found you first thing in the morning, standing in front of something that has Area 51 written all over it, you pushed a button and the next thing I know, we’re in some alternate universe-”

“Reality.”

“Huh?”

“Alternate reality, not an alternate universe… we were out of phase with the…”

“So you do remember.” He cuts the no doubt technobabblerific explanation off before Sam can get fully going. Much though he might like listening to her (and much though he might pretend he really doesn’t) he has bigger fish to fry this morning. “And yet… here we are. In your lab this time. With an alien device you’re about to try to figure out.”

Sam’s looking at him, all narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, as if she can’t understand what his problem is. She gives a little shake of her head, lifting her shoulders in a quick shrug. “So?”

“So?” He turns the word into a laugh, trying to keep any exasperation out of it. “So we’re just back from a mission… straight out of debrief. Have you had any sleep at all? Any breakfast?”

Sam shakes her head, turns back to the device. “Funny,” she says, and she doesn’t try to keep any exasperation out of her voice. “You don’t look like my mother…”

“I’m just sayin’… genius cannot run on commissary coffee and blue jello alone,” he tries, and he’s relieved when her lips turn up in a smile. Of course, that could have just been the mention of blue jello. “And if you push that button… yeah, that one, right there, the one your finger was hoverin’ over five seconds ago… you’ll be here, all day. And half the night. Until you’re so tired, you’re no good to anyone.”

He keeps his voice deliberately soft as he talks, even bringing in more of a Southern lilt than he normally has – in his experience, it tends to help. It doesn’t let him down, not if the softening of Sam’s shoulders is anything to go by. “And you have a better idea?”

“How about… waffle house. Hash browns. Pancakes. Waffles smothered in syrup… food that makes your arteries harden and your teeth rot… food which, I might add, was denied to me the last time you pushed a button on an alien machine.”

Sam lifts an eyebrow in a dead-on Teal’c impersonation. “So you mean I’m picking up the cheque?” she asks dryly.

“We’ll go Dutch,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re going to eat until we’re so full we can’t eat anymore… and then you’re going to go home… take a long hot bath… before crawling into a real, honest to God bed, with an honest to God mattress and quilt, and you’re going to sleep… without worrying about waking up for watch duty or base alarms waking you…”

Sam closes her eyes at the image, lets out a sigh. She’s the very picture of bliss and it’s all Cameron can do not to do something extremely unprofessional, something that would be liable to get the two of them court-martialled. When she opens her eyes again, she blinks, looks him up and down as if she’s surprised at how close he’s standing to her, close enough that their bodies are almost touching. “And… what will you be doing in all this?” she asks, but there’s a glint in her eyes that tells him she already knows the answer.

“Well...” he drawls, “If you’re a really good girl… and eat up all your breakfast… let’s just say I might push a few buttons myself.”

Sam looks into his eyes, and the smile that comes to her face can only be described as filthy. “I’ll go change.”


End file.
